


Chocolate Crêpes

by FrangipaniFlower



Series: Fate [3]
Category: Homeland
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Paris - Freeform, Season 3, Weekend trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13979103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: Sequel toJardin des TuileriesandBreakfast in Istanbul.Quinn takes Carrie back to Paris, for a weekend trip, and they find ways to spend their time together.Happy Birthday, Sydney!





	Chocolate Crêpes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SNQA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNQA/gifts).



> This is for you, my dear friend. I am so glad I met you!

Carrie woke up early, disoriented for a moment with had no idea where she was. But then it came back. 

Paris.

A beautiful hotel room, not far from the Champs Elysee, in a small former palace tucked away from the street in a walled garden. 

Dark blue curtains, shutting out the daylight and the far away sounds from the awakening city. 

A four poster bed opposite the window, in which she curled under a soft blanket. 

Quinn, lying next to her, on his stomach, his head buried deep into a heap of pillows, only a few crazy spikes of hair visible, his right arm stretched out and locked around her waist.

Under the blanket and that arm, Carrie lay naked, and she remembered why with a pleasant shiver.

Always being the more patient one, Quinn had teased her and had drawn it out, and yet she knew he had wanted it as much as she did. Had wanted _her_. It had been tender and full of devotion, no rush, no urgency, nothing playful in it, just making love and indulging in it with every cell of their being after the long week they‘d spent apart from each other.

Afterwards, they’d fallen asleep, exhausted and contend, no shower, no meds, no plans for the morning.

_Meds. Right._

With a sigh Carrie carefully scooted sideways, freeing herself from Quinn‘s arm. He turned on his side with a deep exhale but then was asleep again.

Carrie‘s thoughts went back to meeting Quinn at the airport, his boyish grin as he’d revealed his plan to go to Paris for a long weekend. His good mood had rubbed off on her right away, and she was pretty sure that he‘d never done such a trip before.

Swallowing her pills and turning on the faux antique shower head, she stepped under the spray and mused about why she was so happy – they had a relationship that was unique in her experience, solid enough to do _this_ : A weekend trip to Paris.

She called the room service for breakfast and only woke Quinn when she had a mug with steaming coffee in her hand. She placed it close to his face, waiting for him to stir.

„Huh, coffee?“ Quinn muttered, rolling over on his back, blinking sleepily.

„Yes, coffee. And croissants. And baguette, salted butter, apricot jam, muesli and scrambled eggs with bacon. You like bacon, don’t you?“

„I like bacon, yes.“

Quinn sat up and gladly accepted the mug Carrie offered him along with the kiss she placed on his cheek.

„So, breakfast now?“ he teased her with a tone of regret in his voice. He took a long sip from his mug and rose to walk to the bathroom, Carrie’s eyes resting on his naked body as he crossed the room.

A few minutes later, they sat on the large bed again, the breakfast tray between them, the window towards the garden wide open now, as they sipped coffee and balanced their breakfast plates on their knees.

„You didn‘t answer my question last night.“

Quinn huffed a laugh and dug into his croissant.

„Why are you laughing?“ Carrie insisted.

„You didn‘t let me answer your question. And then…“

Carrie knew where this was going and felt herself smiling and blushing.

„Stop it, Quinn.“

„… my mouth was kinda…“

„I said stop it,“ she reached over for his croissant and stuffed it into his mouth, „ _that_ is a full mouth.“

His answer was an incoherent grunt while he tried to swallow the croissant, the corners of his eyes crinkled because he was still laughing.

Finally he managed, and then reached out to her, burying in his hand in her hair to pull her in for a kiss.

„Breakfast is great, Parisian croissants are said to be the best in the world…“

„So eat your croissant and shut up,“ Carrie interrupted him and smiled against his mouth.

„…but I enjoyed last night‘s _dessert_ a lot.“

„Well, _maybe_ there will be more at some point today,“ Carrie teased, wondering whether they‘d ever make it out of the room.

Returning their attention to breakfast, Quinn sobered and looked at her.

„Why Paris? - that was your question. There’s an easy answer.“

„Do tell.“

„I fed you with McDonald‘s last time we were here and I can’t let that stand.“

And with that, Carrie couldn’t hold it anymore, she started laughing and couldn’t stop.

„What’s that about?“ Quinn asked bemusedly, watching Carrie fall back into the pillows and brushing away some tears of laughter.

„It‘s just… two days ago… Kate brought a friend, one of the doctors who will work at the new hospital,“ Carrie sat up and was fighting for composure, „Sydney. And when we had a drink that evening…“

„ _A_ drink?“ Quinn interrupted her,curious as to where this was going.

„Three. Four, maybe. Anyway. So they were talking about trips they‘d like to make and Paris was high on their list. Sydney has a friend here and she started telling us about a girls‘ trip she made last summer, and praising the food. And you should see her, she’s a small, skinny, beautiful person, but she couldn’t stop talking about chocolate crêpes. And Kate even tried to get the barkeeper to make us some.“

„Chocolate crêpes in Jordan. Sure. How many drinks again? Three?!?“

„Maybe a few more. And then I told them that the last time I was in Paris I had a midnight meal from McDonald‘s.“

And with that she was laughing again and Quinn had enough.

With a few efficient movements he cleaned the remainders of their breakfast off the bed before he leapt over and tackled Carrie so that he was lying on top of her, using his whole body to secure her flat on her back.

„So you were making fun of my choice of food, even though we were in the middle of nowhere, in a fucked-up situation, and all I could think about was whether we would have time for one more fuck after you finished your veggie burger? Next time I‘ll let you starve.“

„Or feed me with chocolate crêpes,“ Carrie quipped, and then Quinn finally silenced her with a kiss, which went on longer than expected. Much longer. Breathless. Carrie beneath him, unable to move an inch but aware of every inch of his body pressed into hers, holding him, whispering his name, a soft sigh, just the layers of underwear between them.

„God Carrie, we‘ll never leave this room,“ he sighed, his mouth trailing kisses along her jawline, nuzzling her neck, his hand roaming along her side, longing for warm skin.

„Actually,“ she squeezed his ass, „we will leave the room. In five minutes. Feed me with a chocolate crêpe, and I promise there will be more. But only later.“

His frustrated groan wasn’t entirely a joke, there was a good bit of real frustration in it.

„You’re fucking kidding.“

„No. I‘m not. Paris. No spy shit. No Javadi. So - Louvre now. Mona Lisa. Mysterious woman hiding her real agenda.“

„Sounds fucking familiar. But – your wish is my command.“

But she pulled him in once more, just for a sweet kiss.

„There will be a reward.“

_And that hip swing should be illegal. Minx._

And then Quinn thought that he was so deep down that road into a crazy love affair, that it was almost ridiculous. God, he was yearning for her. 

They went to two museums that day, the Louvre and the Musée d‘Orsay. 

And it was good. 

~~~

After finishing in the Louvre - albeit one never really finished touring these halls full with art from past centuries - they took a stroll through the Jardin des Tuileries, passing _that_ café and sharing a meaningful glance that made the corners of their mouths twitch. 

Quinn went to the small booth and ordered two cups of coffee which they took with them over to a bench, but not _that_ bench.

Looking at Carrie sitting in the April sun, his mind briefly – or not so briefly – went back to that night in August and how much his life had changed since then. And, on the other hand, how much had not changed.

„What?“ she asked, blinking against the sun.

„Admiring the view,“ he quipped, handing her the coffee.

~~~

Quinn‘s arm went around her shoulder when they got up and continued their walk, briefly shrugging his shoulders when she looked up to him, a little surprised maybe, but not taken aback.

She knew he‘d take her to the ferris wheel, was hoping for it even, and felt a surge of warmth when he took a turn to the left, taking the alley leading them there.

_Because this is where it’s all started._

Scooting over to Quinn‘s side of the bench Carrie closed the distance between them as their gondola oscillated above the highest point of the steel construction.

„Hey you.“

She kissed his cheek and leaned against his shoulder, feeling the leathery texture of his jacket, smelling him and the spring.

„Hey yourself.“

„Thank you. For bringing me, us, back here.“

„Not only for chocolate crêpes.“

„I figured. What else?“ she teased him before she met him for a kiss, not careful and certainly not chaste.

„This. For sure,“ he loosely wrapped her hair around his hand and playfully pulled her in for another kiss, „and to spend time with you, without having to work or travel, without anyone calling you. Or me.“

„Ever done anything like this before?“

„No. You?“

„Nope.“

„Good,“ and there was such a grave tone of satisfaction in his voice that they both had to grin.

~~~

When they walked over to the Musee d‘Orsay close to the riverbank Quinn asked her why she wanted to see that particular place.

„My Dad. When he was young, he and my mom did a road trip through Europe. They went all the way to Southern France to Monet‘s gardens but they never made it to Musee d‘Orsay to see the paintings.“

~~~

He took a picture of her to text to her Dad while she was standing in front of the large clock in the former train station that was now a museum. They both were caught by surprise when another woman, a Japanese tourist, offered to take a photo of both of them together.

Carrie took his phone then to sent herself the picture she wanted to send her father.

Two seconds later her own phone rang.

Quinn had to purse his lips when he heard her talking.

„Dad. – Yes, Paris. – It’s not that far from Istanbul. – A friend. – No, of course not. – No. Dad. No. – Yes. -– No Taliban, no. -– I am on the other side Dad. I am elimi– No,  
of course not. – Yes. Dad, he is,“ she hesitated briefly, and Quinn felt her eyes resting on his face while he fiddled with his phone, noticing how she’d actually sent herself both the photos, the one with her alone and the one with the two of them.

„He is a good man. Don’t worry. Great shot. Strange taste in food,“ she saw Quinn raise his eyebrows, „You know the dark brooding mysterious type. Don’t worry, you’d like him, he’s an Orioles’ fan. Bye Dad, talk to you soon. Love you.“

„Dark brooding type?“

Carrie shrugged, pretending to study the Degas next to her.

„Strange taste in food?“

„McDonalds in Paris. Just saying.“

Quinn stepped closer, and then bent his head slightly, his voice low and laced with humor - and something else.

„So you want chocolate crêpes now, that’s what you’re saying?“

Feeling a pleasant tingle, Carrie raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, brushing her fingers against his palm so that a shiver down his spine.

~~~

Quinn kissed her and tasted a hint of chocolate on her lips, pushing her gently to walk backwards into their room, thinking that this sweet treat had been his ticket to heaven. Paradise, at least.

„You’ve wanted this since morning, huh?“ Carrie teased him, kissing him while slowly unbuttoning his shirt. 

„Nothing wrong with that,” he sighed, “anticipation is half the fun. You-“

“Quinn.”

Suddenly she broke away and looked at him in astonishment.

“You planned this? Estimating the time we’d return?”

He shrugged, following her gaze to the candelabra on the table which illuminated the room with a soft light and the bottle of champagne resting in an ice bucket next to it.

“You really mean it, huh? Romantic weekend in Paris, making up for all the shit which went down the drain here last time,” Carrie asked when she let her head sink against his collarbone, “thank you Quinn, that’s-“

“Sssh. Don’t.”

He uncorked the bottle, and they toasted with the first sip of the pleasantly tangy and pearly drink.

“So, what’s the plan? Making me tipsy and take advantage?”

Carrie sipped her drink and smiled suggestively, tilting her head to Quinn.

“Maybe we both get tipsy and take turns taking advantage?”

Walking over to the bed, Carrie kicked off her shoes and sank back into the soft pillows.

“Your turn.”

“Do I need to _convince_ you or –“

“Or what?”

Taking another sip, she laughed and he thought she’d never looked as beautiful as today.

When she put her glass away and rose to her feet it took him a moment to get with the program –Carrie stood in the middle of the room and slowly started to undress herself, never breaking eye contact.

“Assuming we’re not going to dinner anytime soon…”

Mesmerized by the incredible woman in front of him who was just peeling the cups of her bra off her skin all Quinn could do was nod.

She never ceased to amaze him and maybe he should just get used to it.

She was naked when she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, kissing him languorously while fiddling with his belt, and not long later his pants and the navy button down were gone too, leaving him in briefs and a tee.

“Lie down,” he asked her as he reached towards the nightstand.

 

He picked up the small bottle of oil he’d placed there earlier and snapped open the top. After filling his palm with the golden liquid, he spread it over Carrie’s stomach. He moved his hands with slow movements to her breasts, kneading them and then brushing his thumbs over her nipples. Her back arched into his hands, and her hands grew white from fisting the sheets by her side.

 

After attending to her arms and hands, he poured more oil in his hands and smoothed between her legs and over her pussy, raising his eyebrows when she gasped.

Soon her thighs, calves, and feet wore an oily sheen illuminated by the candles – and she was constantly wiggling.

“Relax.” He massaged her feet, pulling on each toe and massaging her arch.

“Or what?” Carrie gave him a challenging glance, raising her left leg and letting her foot wander along his thigh into his crotch, bending her toes then in an awfully pleasing way. “Don’t tell me you’ll stop then because that would be a lie –you want _this_ so much.”

And then she smiled and moved her foot in a slow circle, making him close his eyes for a few seconds.

Opening them again and looking down on her, naked and her skin shining, he had an idea.

“Or… I’ll be forced to...,” he paused when she wiggled her toes, “restrain you.”

Carrie managed to sneak her toes under the fabric of his briefs, trailing upwards inch by inch now, holding eye contact.

“Fuck. Carrie.”

“What if I’d like that? You restraining me. What if my foot wouldn’t stop _this_ as long as you don’t make me? What then, Quinn?”

With some regret and a deep sigh he removed her foot from his crotch, massaging her instep with the heel of his hand, the images unfolding in his mind giving him a shiver down his spine.

“So be it. Lie still Carrie.”

He covered his hands once more with oil and let them roam over her body, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her legs, meeting when he brushed them in sync over her mound and then up her belly towards her breasts. 

Covering the perfect roundness with his palms he bent down and kissed her.

“You sure?”

Carrie heard the quiver of excitement in his voice, saw that his eyes were dark with desire and aware that she herself felt the same amount of arousal and anticipation, all the while knowing that she was safe with him.

“Yes,” she breathed, letting her fingertips run down his spine, “one condition though.”

“Yeah?”

“Undress.”

He did as he was told, letting his briefs and shirt drop to the floor, and when he returned to the bed he took one of the candles from the candelabra on the table.

 

He tipped a few drops of melted wax from it into his hand. “Tell me if this burns.” He spread the warmth over her oiled belly.

Carrie inhaled sharply and her hands darted up and then settled back down.

“Carrie?”

“No. It’s– it’s good. It’s– oh fuck, Quinn.”

It was good. Surprisingly. _Very_ good.

The wax grew tacky under his palm. More gasps came from her throat as he dribbled a large drop from the candle onto her arm. Her hands jumped from the sheet only to float back down.

“Shh, feel it.” He grasped her wrist and angled it away from her body. “Palms up. Don’t move.” 

Quinn tipped the candle over her wrist. Her fingers danced as the drippings made contact and she gasped when a thin wax line formed, pooling on the sheet.

“What, Carrie?”

“I-“

“Want me to stop? Your call. But I like where this is going.”

“Me too,” she whispered, her back arching up when he used his free hand to caress her breast.

“The wax will cuff you. If you break it, I’ll find something stronger.”

He saw her curling her fingers as if she tested the bond but she didn’t object, instead, her hum when he brushed his thumb over her nipple again was quite encouraging. 

Quinn streamed more wax until she wore a thin bracelet on her wrist. The bond barely covered her skin and yet she felt its weight.

“I want you to be mine,” Quinn whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse, “and I want you to enjoy this.”

In response, Carrie stretched her other arm out, away from her body, ready –no, longing -– for the same treatment. Her acceptance of his ministrations made his groin tighten in anticipation. 

He secured the other wrist with a waxy shackle and then moved his attention down to her legs. 

He dripped a thin stream of wax until her ankles wore similar restraints to her wrists. Now cuffed by wax chains, sprawled out on their bed, she couldn’t move and he looked up to meet her eyes. A small smile played on her lips, finally relaxed. Finally giving in.

“One word and I’ll stop.”

He moved the candle of her torso, saw her inhaling and then dropped a thin stream of wax over one breast. She arched and sighed under the sensation, breaking one hand through its cuff.

Her forehead furrowed. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Of course not.” He chuckled. “That’s the point.”

She returned his laughter, but then swallowed it back. “Quinn? Do it again.”

He touched her arm. “Of course.”

When he secured her wrist with more wax, her fingers quivered. Tension in her belly returned, perhaps fighting to lift herself toward him? Her body glistened, from oil, and the warm light of the candles.

She balled her fists. The thin shackles didn’t crack. He spilled more melted candle onto her waiting body. A seal formed over her breast from drizzling wax, spiral-fashion.

With one slow stream, he drew small circles around her other breast. A coiled cap formed over her flesh. She squirmed under the liquid heat, soft moans escaping her lips, feeling her own wetness pooling between her legs. More candle drippings formed waxy rivers and tributaries over her belly and her hips. Her skin reddened around the waxy parts from the stimulation and heat and he thought he’d never wanted anything in his life so much as making this woman his, love her, please her, cherish her, make her scream and ask her to never leave him again.

He traded candles. He emptied one of its liquid while allowing the others to burn down more, creating their own small pools of melted warmth. Large sections cooled to semi-hardness. Unable to stay motionless any longer, Carrie’s back arched with each new stream that met her skin. Wax separated and cracked, except for the thin shackles securing her wrists. She balled her fists, as if willing them to stay intact.

By the time he’d moved to her legs, she took in big gulps of air. A light sheen had formed over her upper lip and forehead. He ran one long line of warm melted candlewax down one thigh to her knee. 

When he crossed her low belly with a large spill of wax, she squealed. Her hands threatened to dart upward. Her cuffs barely held. But she stopped herself from completely freeing her wrists and ankles, waiting for him to finish his work of seduction, desperate for him to finally touch her.

By the time he finally put the candles away she felt all her senses heightening and sharpening, awaiting his each and every move.

Quinn leant over her, his lips almost touching hers, she felt the warmth radiating from his body.

Nothing had prepared her for the jolt rushing through her body when his hand moved between her legs and two long fingers started circling her entrance, softly, caressing, slowly spreading her wetness and the remainders of the oil, his breath hot against her mouth.

“Don’t break them Carrie. You think you can do this? Let’s see how long you can keep them intact.”

His voice sounded wicked, betraying the slow and tender circles his fingers were drawing, and when he kissed her she felt his own passion and desire in that kiss.

Slowly inducing a finger into her, his voice a charged whisper now, he kept stimulating her.

“What do you want? Tell me. Cause I want it all.”

“Your mouth.”

Moving between her legs he looked at her body, covered with wax and oil, awaiting him, and he knew he’d never let go of the memory of these few days here with her.

“I’ll bend one of your legs, you don’t move.”

And with that, he lowered his head between her legs, making room by bending her left knee, letting his tongue making contact, trailing her opening, two fingers parting her for him, finding her hood, licking her clit now.

He _almost_ took her there twice, knowing she had to fight the urge to move, feeling her writhing and wrapping the free leg around him to bring him closer and make him continue.

Hearing her whimpers and her calling out his name, knowing that he could do this to her, that this was meant to last, made him want her even more.

But first –

When he started sucking her clit her hips bucked, and then she locked her leg around his shoulder and used it to bring her hips up, pressing him against her body, his lips and tongue working her now, knowing she was beyond coming back from this, and he wanted her to have this, wanted it to be spectacular and pure bliss because hearing Carrie gasp his name, utter soft cries, and beg him not to stop while he was tasting her and working her clit was enough to make him almost finish off himself.

Her body was still trembling from the last shivers, feeling pleasurably limp and oversensitive at the same time, when he came up on all fours to look at her, she was a beautiful mess, and he knew he couldn’t wait any second longer.

“Whatever you want,” she whispered, her voice shaking, finally raising on arm and breaking the fine restraint to cup his cheek.

He reached for her knee to bend her leg diagonally over her body, her knee coming to rest next to her hip, and then moved one hand flat under her ass to tilt her upwards, allowing him to enter her deep with one firm stroke, his other hand roaming along her leg, indulging in feeling soft and smooth skin as he started moving with fast thrusts, feeling the quick build up and the insane explosion coiling up at the base of his spine, voracious and mind-shattering.

His pace was relentless now, one hand holding Carrie in place, the other grabbing the bed post to stabilize himself for the last thrusts, the deep angle bringing Carrie off again when he pressed a thumb on her clit for sloppy circles, wanting to feel her climaxing again.

His contractions started to build, the intensity shaking his body and shattering his mind. Vision fading to black, the blood rushing in his ears, heat taking him, Carrie gasping, his own loud groan when he finally found his release in a mind-boggling orgasm which made him collapse on top of Carrie, the last few gentle movements creating aftershocks like he’d never experienced before.

Carrie held him, still breathing heavily, caressed his back and ass, kissed his cheek and breathed him in, feeling a contentment she still wasn’t used to.

 

“Quinn?”

“Uhm.”

“Just to be clear on that. I swear to God, tomorrow I’ll cuff you to that bed post and then–“

“Listen to yourself,” he chuckled, “right now you can’t even get up because your legs are still shaking.”

“Smug bastard.”

They lay in silence, both still breathing heavily.

“I’d planned on taking you out for dinner. Got a little sidetracked.”

“We can order room service now.”

“Yeah. You hungry? What do you want?”

“Dunno. Salad? Scallops? French bread?”

“Sounds good. Just no more chocolate crêpe for you because honestly–“

“You are declaring defeat.”

He had to laugh at her triumphant tone.

“I’m calling time out for at least two hours. And you need a shower before any waiter is allowed to enter this room.”

Rolling off her he sat up on the bed, looking at her, a mess of wax and oil and wrinkled sheets around her.

And there it was, and he couldn’t stop it, it coalesced in his chest, grew, and then he just said it.

“I love you Carrie.”

Her eyes rested for a moment on his face, thinking that this beautiful, smart and caring, often withdrawn and contrarian man who understood her like no one else didn’t need to say it because she knew it and because he lived up to it every single day they’d spent together – and yet she understood that he _wanted_ to say it, at least once, because that’s what she wanted too.

“I love you, Quinn.”

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t have done this without InchByInch who edited with lightning speed, and helped me to plot (well, plot...yeah I know) the story. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> This is the hotel:  
> http://boutiquehotels-paris.com/hotel/235642/photos/
> 
>  
> 
> And finally, I fear the guy sitting next to me in that Lufthansa flight yesterday on seat 11 D had a fun flight, he kept trying to have stealthy looks at my screen... but damn, I really had to finish that one in time.


End file.
